I was born to make you run (like fire in your blood)
by FeyWinds
Summary: /Maybe I was born to make you do some thing you never done, you'll be forever young/ In which they're in college, everything (except some of the people) is American, Sherlock's a girl and a Criminal Justice/Chem major, John's former football and pre-med and I am on crack. This takes from all the available SH incarnations.


John Watson is a 5'11 black male, and a new transfer to the the Eruditio University.

Erudito University...you can see it in your head. It's the college in which all college AUs take place: There are wide open spaces and parks and a small town nearby with a coffee shop and a bookstore and three restaurants, tops. The college itself is one that you only get into if you're rich or with a scholarship. John is the second.

And before you get up in arms, no, John didn't grow up in the ghetto, he wasn't in a gang, he didn't have a touching life story. He grew up in the upper-middle class suburbs, and he'd gotten a full ride to University of Florida. However, when that scholarship had gotten invalidated, they'd rewritten it and shipped him back north for a full ride at Erudito.

Honestly? John really didn't know what to expect when he got there, but it wasn't a hot guy.

The man smiled at him as he got out of the bus, helping him unload his stuff as he introduced himself as, "Mike Stamford".

(Hot and _British_, apparently.)

Mike loaded his stuff into the back of a golf cart and drove him around the campus, pointing out everything from the gym to the cafeteria to the theater with flirty small talk in between before rolling up to the admissions office. Mike let John get out as he went to park.

The receptionist flirted her way into his name, number, and date of birth under the pretence of 'making sure it's you' before, thankfully, Mike came in and shooed her away to do paperwork and taking over, quickly getting his welcome packet together.

"Alright, so, third year Pre-med, born 6/6/90?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, you're going to be in the Apartments, block B, 3rd floor. Your roommate will be S Holmes." Mike started and did a double take to the computer before looking up at John and giving him a once over. "Alright, let's go."

The Apartments weren't really apartments, more Victorian-style buildings, all three floors that, apparently, were separated into three different living spaces. Mike deposited his bags on the porch, gave John another once over that made him feel like he was being sized up, and then left with a grin and a, "Good luck" over his shoulder.

John knocked on the door, and blinked when a woman who didn't really look like a student opened the door.

"S Holmes?" The woman smiled.

"No, that's upstairs. You're the new roommate, then?" John nodded, a voice in the back of his head wondering idly what the British to American ratio was at this school, because this couldn't be normal.

"They said they wanted to put me with someone for at least the first month and a half to make a friend." She raised an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh." She smiled, adding, "My name is Dr Cecily Hudson. You can call me Dr Hudson. You're going to be on the top floor." She looked him over much the same way Mike had before she went back into the downstairs apartment, throwing a, "Good luck" over her shoulder.

Once up the stairs and slightly out of breath, John leaned against the wall and eyed the door, hesitating slightly before knocking.

"Markov, for the last time, you're wrong! Now, _go away_."

John blinked (at least this one wasn't British) and knocked again. The door burst open with a bang.

"I _said_-oh."

The figure who opened the door was 5'7, had straight ginger hair back in a ponytail, whiskey brown eyes, and was noticeably female.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"I'm looking for a S Holmes."

"That'd be me."

"I'm apparently your new roommate." She nodded, blatantly looking him over.

"Ah, I see we are continuing on the male theme." She met his gaze, expression frank. "There will be people coming out of my room at odd hours of the night. You will probably be approached by people who will assume that, because you're my roommate, you will be able to convince me to call them back or see them more than once. I need the sex to function properly, its extremely annoying. I probably won't sleep with you, but if I do, and you'd have to beg, it doesn't mean that we are in a committed relationship." She smiled. It wasn't especially nice. "FYI."

"FYI?" Her eyebrow went up. "My hypothalamus is messed up."

"Okay. And?"

"And unless you affect me extremely deeply, I won't feel anything for you." Her forehead wrinkled.

"Wait. Your-"

"It won't kick in until I'm invested, and/or I'm producing an extreme excess of dopamine. My receptors just don't pick it up." She grinned.

"Oh, I bet that makes you quite the fun challenge for sorority girls and cheerleaders."

"Oh, you have_ no_ idea." He grinned. "John Watson."

"Sherlock Holmes." She pointed at his duffel. "Need some help, with your leg and all?" She caught the duffel when he tossed it instinctively before turning and leading the way into the apartment. She'd already deposited it on his bed and disappeared back into her room when John realized that he hadn't been limping when he'd come in.

So how the hell had she known about his knee?


End file.
